"Ma'am, when was the last time you got a ticket?"

The rubber met the road in that moment because the truth is simple: I've gotten too many warning tickets to count lately.

But how could I explain that to the nice motorcycle cop in the sunglasses and the helmet, standing at my window?

Desperately searching for a technicality, I thought, "Do warning tickets even count?"

I hate technicalities. Whenever I find myself depending on technicalities instead of the truth, I know I've missed the point, the rock solid ground of integrity based on truth.

Technicalities are simply the tricky mind's way of avoiding the truth. Yuck.

"If I tell you the truth, you will think I'm trying to manipulate you," I said.

"Try me."

His face was stern, but there was a smile in his voice.

"Every time I see the lights flashing in the rear view mirror, I thank God. I think that is why I get warnings."

Not a normal response I know, but there's more to the story.

You see, on a particularly frantic afternoon in the Fall about four years ago, as we sped to pick up the beloved family pet I had forgotten to retrieve from the vet's office, I was pulled over on one of the country roads near my house by a very polite and professional Department of Public Safety officer.

I knew in an instant I would get a warning that day because sitting next to me was the same person who remembered the dog.

He was dressed for dinner with his grandparents in what was his favorite outfit - a starched shirt, khakis, a big lone star belt buckle and a cowboy hat that was a special gift from a DPS friend.

Law-enforcement guys have been my son's heroes since he was eyelevel with their holsters.

When my son pulled off his cowboy hat, even though he had been instructed to be perfectly quiet, and showed the officer the lone star in the lining of the hat that is unique to the DPS, I knew I would be ticket-free.

But that's only the beginning of the story because within a few weeks, we saw that same officer's picture on the front page of area papers when he was wounded in the line of duty.

Since then, my flashing light prayer goes like this: "Thank You, Lord, that for the next 20 or so minutes this officer will be safe and treated respectfully.

"Thank You for his devotion to duty and for letting us live in a country with peace and laws, not technicalities.

"Thank you for the wife or mother who is praying for him today with me. Please continue to protect him."

I'm not saying this prayer will keep you from getting real tickets.

I'm just saying that for at least 15 minutes you could be somebody's answer to prayer.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Visit checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.